One Look: A grumpy, single dad small town romance(67)

I was breathless and loved being manhandled into his lap. I stared down at his lips. “What did you have in mind?”

His fingers tickled the skin above my jean shorts as he smoothed them over my hip and moved down to squeeze my ass. “I don’t want to be gentle.”

There was a roughness, barely contained, that I hoped he’d unleash on me. I knew he would never hurt me, but if after a long day he wanted me to be his release, I’d happily do it.

“That’s perfect, because I don’t want you to be gentle either.”

“That’s good.” Wyatt wound my legs around his hips so I was straddling him, my boobs pressed against him. “Real good because I want to watch your tits bounce while I fill this cunt.”

My whole body shivered as we tore at each other’s clothes and Wyatt made good on his promise.





“I want to tell Penny about us.” Wyatt carefully pushed a strand of my hair across my forehead and tucked it behind my ear. After the entire population of Remington County heard me screaming his name from the front porch, we’d continued our fun inside. Now tucked into his arms on top of his bed, Wyatt looked at me with a tenderness that made little sparkles of energy crackle under my skin.

“Us as in . . . special friends?”

Wyatt laughed. “I don’t care what you want to call it. I just don’t like being in the same room with you and feeling like I can’t touch you.”

“Oh.” My nerves were getting the best of me. These were the kinds of talks that made things real. Committed. Dangerous.

“Is that okay?” His fingers paused the lazy circles they had been making on my back.

“Yeah, no. Of course. I don’t like the secrets either. I just don’t, you know, want her to be confused is all.”

“Confused?”

“Well, like, Am I the nanny? Am I the personal assistant? Am I the fuck buddy?—not that that’s how you would phrase it. I just . . . I don’t know. You know what? It’s your kid. You know what’s best!” The fake cheeriness I tried to infuse in my words was hollow.

Wyatt saw right through it. “I was going to tell her that we were dating so that if I held your hand or kissed you, it wouldn’t be a surprise.”

“Yes. Great. That’s better.” Embarrassment stained my cheeks. Wyatt was being so sweet, and I’d made it awkward and uncomfortable.

I looked at the clock on the wall and found my exit strategy. “Oh shit. You know what? I have the Bluebirds tonight and haven’t even made something to bring to the book club. I should go.”

I untangled myself from Wyatt and gathered my clothes in my arms. I slipped on my underwear and jean shorts before pulling on my shirt. In two swift steps, I pressed a quick kiss on his lips before he could even get out of bed. I practically ran through his house and up to my apartment.

Way to go, Lark. That was handled spectacularly.

I groaned in frustration and looked out my kitchen window, down at the farmhouse. My heart pounded as I considered Wyatt saying that we were dating.

Were we dating? When did that happen?

As someone who had moved from town to town without a care, the idea of dating—being committed, making promises, expectations—felt big. Real.

I wanted it, especially with Wyatt, but I also knew that kind of love was for other people. Lucky girls who weren’t cursed at Renaissance festivals. My sad string of unfulfilling relationships proved that it never lasted.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. When I saw the text from Wyatt, I laughed in relief.

Wyatt



I’m going to try really hard to not take your graceful exit personally.





You mean that time you said we were dating and then I immediately bolted? Definitely not related.





Wyatt



Well that’s a relief. Have fun at book club.





Thanks.





Wyatt



Oh, and on the off chance you are Words of Affirmation—you make our lives better. I care about you.





Would have been nice to say that to your face before you ran out the door in a panic.





My heart clunked and I couldn’t breathe.

Wyatt had listened to my ramblings about love languages? Holy shit.

I care about you too. Next time I’ll try not to run.





Wyatt



It’s okay if you do. I’ll chase you down.





The Bluebirds were in rare form tonight. As soon as I’d walked into Bluebird Books, the chitter died down, and a sea of owl eyes stared at me. I wiped at my mouth, wondering if the remnants of my lemon blueberry scone were still stuck to my face.

Bug looked irate, and when she turned back to Tootie, the conversation picked right up again. I hustled in and set the bottle of wine I’d picked up on the table. My phone buzzed in my pocket, but I ignored it when I saw Cass.

Cass lifted her hand in greeting, and I hurried to her side. “What’s going on? Why is everyone so mad?”

Cass grabbed my arm and lowered her voice. “Trouble.”

“What kind of trouble? Is everyone okay?”

Cass shook her head. “Some kids down at the Sand Dollar got into it. They were arrested for fighting on the beach. Kings and Sullivans. Again.”